


Dissolution

by ChampagneSly



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Historical, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampagneSly/pseuds/ChampagneSly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the dissolution of the union of Denmark-Norway, 1814.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissolution

_December 1814_

 _Christiania (Oslo), Norway_

  
Denmark was drunk; tipsy and pounding on Norway's door, standing outside like an idiot in the frigid night air demanding entrance, even as his voice slowed and the knocking of fists grew weary. Norway watched him from his upstairs window, unsurprised by his sudden appearance though it had been almost a year since their bitter parting with the Treaty of Kiel. He pushed the curtain aside, holding up his candle to the window, trying to make out the pathetic form of the man huddling on his doorstep, shivering in his stupidity. Norway did not move from his silent post when Denmark raised his head to peer at the light in the window, blinking in the darkness at him, feeling all of the rage and disappointment of the past year flood his normally placid mind as they looked upon each other for the first time since their dissolution.

Norway wanted to slap away the smile that dared to grace Denmark's face, illuminated by the gas lamps on the street, betraying his obvious happiness that Norway had acknowledged him.

“Norge! Norge! C'mon, let me in! It's really cold out here!” Denmark started whining, far too loudly for Norway to ignore any longer, wary of having the neighbors wake to find a strange man passed out on his doorstep in the morning, as tempting as it was to leave the idiot to suffer. Sighing, he let the curtain swish closed, removing Denmark from his sight, before he pulled on his dressing gown and crept down the stairs of his house that had yet to feel like a home, the candle casting eerie shadows on the still barren walls.

Girding his anger under a layer of icy disdain, schooling his expression into one of irritated superiority, he threw open the door, stood on the threshold and stared at the oblivious man on his steps. He held out the candle to cast light on Denmark, noticing that the pallor brought on by the famines and his collapse following the Napoleonic Wars had faded, that his eyes were no longer dull with defeat.

And yet, he noted with cruel satisfaction, the man that had been his overlord for so many centuries seemed smaller, weaker, a hint of desperation in the smile that stretched his cheeks. He waited, still and silent, for Denmark to say something, to attempt to explain his sudden presence, but he waited in vain, as Denmark just stood staring at him and smiling, rocking back and forth on his heels and shivering.

“What are you doing here, Denmark?” Norway asked, voice flat and eyes distant.

Denmark tilted his head and scrunched his forehead as if the question was somehow ridiculous, choosing instead to tell Norway, “You look really good, Norge.”

“I cannot say the same for you,” Norway returned sharply, enjoying Denmark's flinch before he asked again, “But that doesn't tell me why you are bothering with me with your unnecessary presence at an hour reserved for sleeping?”

Denmark smirked, “Or other things.”

Exasperated, Norway moved to close the door in Denmark's stupidly grinning face, only to have the motion aborted by Denmark shoving a hand between the door and the frame, speaking hurriedly, “Don't. I just came to see you,” he paused, voice going quieter as he shivered, "since you never came back to see me.”

Norway almost laughed at the absurdity of Denmark's statement, wondering how the other man could have been so foolish as to expect Norway to set foot own of his own free will in his country again in anytime in the next decade. He cast another appraising glance at Denmark, feeling a twinge of pity at the sad sight of his blue tinged lips pursed over his chattering teeth.

Suspicious, but unwilling to endure the bracing chill any longer, Norway stepped aside, gesturing for Denmark to come inside, which he did with alacrity, shedding his coat and boots and shocking Norway out of his complacency when he placed his hands on Norway's shoulders and attempted to pull him in for a hug.

Norway shoved him away carelessly, ignoring the sudden jump in his heart at the first contact between them in so many months.

“What do you think you are doing, idiot?” Norway hissed.

Denmark pouted and held out his hands in surrender, “Just trying to say hello, Norge. I've missed you.”

Norway snorted in disbelief, bitterness from wounds too recently inflicted welling up in his throat as he turned away from Denmark's unfairly hurt face, walking back up the creaking stairs, ignoring Denmark's bitten off curse as he struggled to follow him without the benefit of candlelight.

In the bedroom he lit the sconces, watching the way the flickering light played off Denmark's shocked features as he took in the emptiness of the room, the the unadorned wall and the upturned bed where Norway had been tossing and turning.

He closed the door and leaned against the wall, saying nothing as Denmark sat on the edge of the bed and removed his waistcoat and loosened his collar, eyes still darting around from barren surface to barren surface, finally looking at Norway with obvious confusion and a hint of excitement.

Norway could see the gears turning in his mind, endless decades of experience with Denmark's whims and rarely great ideas making him prescient as to the words that were to tumble from his mouth, feeling a frisson of vengeful pleasure at the conversation that was finally going to happen.

As he expected, Denmark turned to him with his widest smile, even more pronounced on his still slightly gaunt face, as he enthusiastically declared, “Wow! You haven't done much with this new place. Do you hate it here?”

Norway did not hate his new home in the least and he harbored secret hopes that now that the shameful deal was done he could finally try and make it his own, even if everything he was and everything he had belonged in name to someone else.

But he said none of this to Denmark, letting the scene play out as he had long imagined it must. He shrugged, revealing nothing as Denmark looked at him intensely, obviously trying to gauge how well his next proposal was going to go over.

He smiled winningly, “Why don't you come home with me?”  
Norway let his lips curl up into a mockery of a smile, crossing his arms over his chest, letting Denmark wait, hopeful and confident, before he torn down that dream with a simple, harsh, “No.”

Denmark's smile disappeared into a disappointed scowl, as he huffed and looked at Norway with plaintive and frustrated eyes, voice edging out of its former cheerfulness as he asked, “No? Just like that?”

“Are you so dense you need me to repeat it again? Very well, Denmark, no,” Norway responded, liking the taste of no on his tongue.

Denmark's whole demeanor gave away his growing agitation, a perfect foil to Norway's sharp placidity, as he barked out, “Haven't you fucking missed me at all?”

Norway felt the cold anger settle in his chest, crystallized and refined in all the many months they had been parted, as he arched an eyebrow and looked at Denmark with disdain, “What possible reason would I have to do something so incredibly stupid as that?”

Denmark stood abruptly and Norway wanted to punch him for having the gall to look at him with hurt betrayal in his eyes as he asked, “Oh, I don't know, Norge, maybe the centuries we spent together? Remember those?”

Norway felt his own body coiling with tension, his nerves itching for this confrontation as he scathingly replied, “My long term memory is fine, thank you. But I do have some concerns about your short-term memory, you bastard.”

The expression on Denmark's face spoke of the rising danger in the room, his eyes flashing with barely concealed anger and shock, growling, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Norway wanted to hit him, wanted to bite the hurt out of his expression, his voice bitter as he reminded Denmark, “How very you, Denmark, to fail to remember that less than twelve months ago you gave me away to Sweden as prize of war.”

He watched avidly as Denmark registered the accusation, unimpressed and refusing to be mollified by eyes that begged for understanding and his frustrated, pleading reply, “I had no choice, you know that!”

Norway narrowed his gaze, feeling all the pain and fury of his humiliation and abandonment choke him as he spat out, “And yet your precious nation managed to hold on to MY territories. Greenland, Faroes, and Iceland, you separate me from them and then throw me to the wolves as an offering of peace. My brother, Denmark, you kept my brother!”

He paused, inhaling deeply before spearing Denmark with a look that spoke of all the betrayal that had been festering in his heart, sneering, “So, no, I don't miss you and I certainly can't come “home.” After all, I belong to someone else now.”

Denmark had started pacing wildly through Norway's speech, interjecting with protestations that it was not his fault, that he would make it right one day, agitated and apologetic until the moment that Norway reminded him once again that he now was the subject of a new ruler, that Denmark no longer had any dominion over him.

He held his breath, feeling his blood hum as he watched the slow dawn of jealousy on Denmark's face as he approached Norway, coming close enough that Norway backed up against the wall when Denmark asked in a low angry tone, “And you would rather belong to Sweden?”

The danger in Denmark's voice made his heart race and he felt his arousal stir to life, his cold anger melting and blending with Denmark's hot envy, rushing through his veins, and he wanted to stoke the fires further, to push this little scene to its inevitable breaking point.

He uncrossed his arms, forcing disinterest as he caught Denmark's wild, intense, stare, answering seriously, meaning it with every fiber of his being when he said, “I would rather belong to myself.”

He tried to shove the memories of his people's unsuccessful bid for independence to the back of his mind, tracing an idle thumb over the reminder of his nation's subservience to another.

Norway pushed forward, leaning into Denmark's space and holding up his hand, waiting for the moment that Denmark's eyes caught upon the candlelit glint of metal on his left ring finger before going in for the kill, “But even some as pathetically unobservant as you can see that's no longer possible.”

The room crackled with tension as Denmark growled, “What the fuck is that?”

Norway reached out his hand, stroking his finger down Denmark's cheek as if baiting a dangerous and unpredictable animal, reveling in the answering possessive anguish in his eyes before he said with mocking sympathy, “You didn't hear? Sweden and I are in a personal union now. I'm his new wife.”

He let his voice caress the word _wife_ , knowing how it would fray Denmark's control to the point of snapping. As a reward for his efforts he was crowded up against the wall as Denmark grabbed his ring hand in a crushing grip, using the other to grasp Norway's chin between punishing fingers, shaking with anger. 

Norway met his eyes defiantly as Denmark growled, twisting his hand around the tender skin of Norway's trapped wrist, “Do you let him fuck you?” 

He smiled cruelly, flexing his fingers in Denmark's hold, deliberately looking at the ring and answering, “And so what if I do? Its what people who are joined together do, Denmark, as you know from personal experience.” 

Denmark's entire body went rigid, his pupils blown wide with jealous rage, before shoving Norway against the wall with such force that the candles shook, flickering dangerously as Denmark pushed their mouths together with bruising force, drawing the air of out Norway's lungs with his savage embrace. Norway could feel the barely restrained heaving of Denmark's chest, their hearts beating wildly together as Denmark released the grip on his chin to rip away the dressing down from Norway's shoulder, biting down without hesitation or gentleness, breaking his delicate skin.

Norway hissed and arched his hips in response, achingly hard as he gave himself over to Denmark's total lack of control. He moaned when Denmark sucked harshly over the mark he had just inflicted before scoring his teeth up the expanse of Norway's chest, breathing into his ear, “No one should ever touch you but me.” 

He laughed, softly and dismissively, consciously egging on Denmark's covetous anger, lips parting in anticipatory desire as Denmark returned to kissing him with all the callousness of a conqueror being scorned on a field of battle. 

He could feel the angry, helpless, trembling in Denmark's arms as he used his free hand to tear the dressing gown off entirely, kicking it away when it pooled at their feet, leaving Norway only in his night shift. 

His eyes widened and his breath caught with excitement when Denmark hauled him forward with an arm around his waist and turned him to face the wall, forcing his arms over his head with one hand in an iron grip and kneeing his legs apart.

His eyes fluttered shut when Denmark pressed against him, hot breath on his shoulder as he pulled his head back by his hair, licking a trail from neck to jaw before once again biting down mercilessly on the tender skin of his neck, causing Norway to writhe and roll his hips against Denmark's hardness. 

He felt cool air hit his skin as Denmark hiked up his night shirt, groaning appreciatively at the sight of his bare ass, vulnerable to the stinging slap that Denmark immediately delivered, a second quickly following on the heels of Norway's shameless moan. He heard the rustle of buttons and shifting fabric, trying to crane his head around to see only to have Denmark squeeze his trapped wrists, digging his fingers into the bones. 

He gasped as Denmark slid his cock between his legs, hot and hard against his own, rocking back as much as he was able under the heavy drape of Denmark's body against his back. Denmark continued to bite at his neck and slide roughly against him before he pushed two of his fingers against Norway's lips. 

He parted his lips, flicking out his tongue to taste the salt of Denmark's skin, before sucking them into his mouth, wetting them as he ran his teeth against the knuckles. Denmark cursed, filthy and broken in his ear, pulling his fingers out and tracing them down Norway's spine, hand hovering between his legs.

“Tell me you want me, tell me you want this,” Denmark commanded, pressing his face into Norway's neck. 

Norway shuddered, knowing how very much he did want this, gods help him, but refusing to voice his desire and satisfy Denmark's needs, instead spread his legs and arched his back in invitation. 

Denmark sucked in a breath before moving his fingers quickly and harshly into Norway's body,  which snapped forward in surprised pleasure, murmuring, “God, look at you, you want this so fucking bad you can taste it.” 

Norway let his head fall against his arms, gasping brokenly against the burning twist of Denmark's finger inside him, shocked by his desperate need.    
Abruptly, Denmark pulled away, dropping his captive hold and removing his fingers to use both hands to gather Norway at the waist, taking advantage of his lust fogged mind and tossing him onto the bed. Norway blinked, trying to recover from the sudden change of scenery, feeling the ache between his legs, wanting to stroke his cock for relief.

Blindly, he reached out his hand to touch himself only to be shoved backwards once more as Denmark loomed over him, crawling between his knees and lifting his legs on to his shoulders. He had seconds to notice the now slick feel of Denmark's hand on his thigh before he felt Denmark's cock pushing into him in one quick and deep thrust. 

His mouth fell open in a silent cry as his back came off the bed, the angry sound of Denmark's breathless questions barely registering above the rush of sharp, clarifying desire, “Does he use this oil when he fucks you? Do you keep it here for him? I'll bet he's always a fucking gentleman, soft and gentle and inadequate."

Norway's eyes fluttered shut as Denmark snapped forward with increasing force, their hip bones nearly driving together, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as Denmark growled, “Does he fuck you like this? Does he know what you really want? What a vicious little beast you are?” 

Denmark pressed down as close as he could, folding Norway nearly in half as he ground into him unceasingly, trapping his cock between his stomach and the soft teasing rub of Denmark's shirt, a contrast to the abrasive roughness of Denmark's pants scratching against the back of his thighs.

He moaned and writhed, unwilling to answer Denmark's increasingly desperate demand to know, “Do you like when it he fucks you? Does he make you come like I do?” 

Instead, he tried to wind his hands through Denmark's hair, to bring their lips together to speak through kisses instead of words, only to have Denmark snatch his hand down, eying the ring with disgust.

Norway felt as though he might break in half from the pleasure-pain of Denmark's hips slamming into him, filling him in a way he hadn't even known he had missed with such an ache, the tension in his body climbing to uncontrollable heights as Denmark took the finger bearing the ring symbolically binding him to another into his mouth. He moaned and shook as he felt Denmark's teeth sliding the ring up his finger, seeing him holding it glistening between his lips before spitting it out on the bed-linens beneath them.

“Answer me!” Denmark commanded hoarsely, his own movements going erratic. Wildly, Norway reached for him once again bringing their lips together in a messy kiss filled with longing and want as he came, long and hot between their bodies, keeping their mouths pressed together as Denmark shuddered and came inside him.

For a long moment, Norway let Denmark stay draped across him, hands clinging to his arms, chest heaving, before he gently pushed the other man over to lay next to him, each breathing shallowly in their own separate space.

His legs were still quivering and his back burned and he knew that when he looked in the mirror the next morning his lips would be swollen and his body marked in a way that wasn't likely to happen again for untold years. He cast an eye over Denmark, his shirt sticky with come and sweat, his pants still half-way on his body, and his eyes troubled.

Norway sighed and ran his hand over the covers, palming the ring, still wet from Denmark's mouth. He turned on his side, meeting Denmark's gaze and breathing out, “He doesn't.”

Denmark blinked at him dazedly, “Huh?”

“The answer to your question. Sweden doesn't make me come like you do because he's never touched me.”

Norway watched as some of the worry in Denmark's eyes cleared, his face losing tension,  and gave  into his sudden desire for closeness when Denmark reached for him, holding him against his chest. He listened to the still racing beat of his heart, the remnants of his anger softening as Denmark combed his fingers through his hair.

“He doesn't want to be in this sham marriage with me any more than I do with him. He mourns the loss of Finland everyday, blames himself for it,” Norway whispered, tracing his fingers across Denmark's jaw, the bitter ache of all that had transpired for all the Nordics still settled in his bones.

Denmark turned his face to kiss Norway's palm, murmuring, “I know the feeling. I'm sorry, Norge. For everything. I wish I could make it different. I really wish you didn't have a fucking ring that isn't mine on your finger.”

Norway dropped the ring back on to the bed, holding both his hands above them so Denmark could see that his hands were bare as he said, slowly and softly with the tiniest hint of sadness, “I know, Denmark.”

Denmark joined their hands together and they laid together in silence until the sun began to pour through the windows a short hour later, breaking the spell. Norway closed his eyes for a moment, searching out the anger and betrayed hurt he had felt so keenly only hours before, finding only emptiness and numbness in its place, knowing that pragmatism and the in-born impulse to move forward would be close behind.

He shook Denmark awake, breaking their embrace. He slid the ring back on his finger, once more becoming a mostly unwilling partner in the United Kingdoms of Sweden-Norway, saying a silent prayer for the day when he would once again be his own nation.

Denmark stood and smiled at him crookedly, trying and failing to ignore the tiny piece of jewelry.

Resolute and looking to the future, Norway placed his hands on Denmark's chest, pushing him away as he said, not unkindly, “It's time to go.”


End file.
